


Sacred Space

by foxanddanapetrie



Category: Spooks | MI-5
Genre: Angst, Character Death, F/M, Fluff, HR, One Shot, Ruth and Harry, Season/Series 10
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:41:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24192256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxanddanapetrie/pseuds/foxanddanapetrie
Summary: After Ruth's death, Harry visits her flat to go through some of her things and finds a letter.  Short one shot.
Relationships: Ruth Evershed/Harry Pearce
Kudos: 13





	Sacred Space

**Author's Note:**

> I know I'm late to the party but after binge watching Nicola Walker shows, I finally just finished watching Spooks. So basically this is me recovering from the finale. Enjoy.

As the key slid into the lock he felt a wave of guilt flush over him. Images of her flashed through his brain- the first time she walked into the office fresh out of GCHQ, all of the times his gaze lingered on her after a long day at the office, all of the pain he’s caused her over the years. And now she’s gone because of him, because of the mess he got into all those years ago. The minute he opened the door, Ruth’s privacy was no longer her own. He’d be invading the place where she felt at home and where she kept the things she found that spoke to her. Everything in her house placed there with purpose, every trinket, chair, piece of clothing no longer hers but things to be sorted through.

Harry turned the doorknob and opened it, immediately being hit by the smell of her. He breathes in and closes his eyes, pictures her green door with the chipped paint by the seaside, pretending she’s there, with him, greeting him at the doorway.  _ Ruth  _ he thinks as he breathes in her apartment. 

He walks languidly to the kitchen, sets down his keys, takes off his jacket and gloves and looks around.  _ Where to start. _

He sits down at the kitchen table first, looking around at things he’s never noticed in her house before - the picture of her and her parents in the tiny frame next to the refrigerator. He walks over and stares at it- tiny Ruth, maybe 15 or 16?  _ She dressed the same then.  _ He chuckles to himself as he studies the lanky teenager dressed in a purple shirt and a long grey skirt.

Curiously, he opens the fridge and finds a half eaten piece of chocolate cake, some cat food, various tupperware containers of leftovers but not much else. She was never really home long enough to have a proper meal.

When he walks into the living room, he smells the lingering scent of stale incense as it sits in its tray on the coffee table. At first he thinks of throwing it away but then he remembers,

_ “Why do you like that stuff, Ruth? It smells awful.” He told her one time. _

_ “Try asking me that again after it's created a sacred space for you.” She smiles. _

_ “Ruth, I never know what you’re talking about.” _

_ “Just trust me.” She says as she lights the match. _

When he first met her, he wondered if she was some sort of witch, wearing long black skirts, whimsical personality, more than one cat…What did he know about being a witch anyway? 

He takes the liberty of pouring himself a glass of the whisky she never drank and sips it while he reads her bookshelf.

_ “Have you ever read this, Harry?” She asks as she holds up a copy of Jane Eyre _

_ “No, I can’t say I have.” He says trying not to smile at her sheer love of books. _

_ “Oh well, you must. It’s a classic. I’ll lend you this sometime...if you want.” _

He can’t bring himself to go upstairs yet. Her presence still lingers and he feels the sense of sacred space she always used to tell him about. Perhaps she called it that because her house was the only part of her life untouched by MI5, unaffected by the heavy emotional upheaval they had to deal with on a daily basis. 

He decides to sit in her chair for a minute and grabs the book off her shelf. He chooses Jane Eyre and when he opens to the first page, he finds a folded note stuck in it.

Dear Harry, 

I’m assuming that if you’re reading this something has happened to me and you have taken it upon yourself to go through my things. I’m happy that it’s you who’s doing it. You’re probably wondering if there was something that would have led me to think I was going to be in danger and the truth is there isn’t. Ros has just died and while we have lost many colleagues, her death finally marks the moment I’m letting myself grieve. You and I both know that in our work, there’s always a chance of danger and in knowing this, I want to leave you with more words between us that were never said. I love you, Harry. I have always loved you and I am sorry I’ve never had the courage to tell you and let you in. But the truth is, who would we be without our work? Do you love Ruth Evershed, the anxious cat owner or do you love Ruth Evershed, your right hand analyst on the grid? The truth is, I loved George too, but in a different way. I loved that we were able to build a simple life together and have everything that I thought I would never have, a house, a family, free time to garden, cook, take walks, and swim. I loved the freedom and affection he gave me. It worked. But the love I had for him will never amount to the love I have for you and perhaps in a different life we were meant to be together. Thank you for loving me, for being my best friend. Please don’t be too hard on yourself and please take care. 

-Ruth

P.S. Can you adopt my cats again?


End file.
